


Sign Your Name

by AWriterHasNoName



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 04:11:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AWriterHasNoName/pseuds/AWriterHasNoName
Summary: non-AU, tattoos





	Sign Your Name

**Author's Note:**

> I suck at summaries. Second fic, first RPF. Beta'd offline by a friend, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own them, obv.
> 
> Title taken from Terence Trent D'Arby

“I’m just saying, the whole group in ‘The Fellowship of the Ring’ did it and everyone thought it was cool.”  
Jared is in one towel, wrapping a second around his freshly washed hair, and picking up a third to wipe the mirror. Jensen moves past Jared to hit the shower, slaps his ass and takes a playful nip of his shoulder.  
“It was cool. But there were nine of them, Jared. This is just us and everyone’s going to want to do it after they see them. I’m not saying we don’t get them, I’m saying we pick a spot that’s not normally visible.”  
Jensen strips out of his boxers and steps into the shower. He leaves the shower door cracked open a bit. He knows from past practice, Jared will have no issue climbing back into the shower with him to finish whatever conversation Jared has decided Jensen is avoiding. Jensen isn’t avoiding this and he’s trying to make that clear.  
“I’m definitely not saying no, Jay. I’m saying we pick the spot and the design before we get there.”  
Jared leans against the bathroom doorjamb and crosses his arms. “So, what are you suggesting?”  
“No anti-possession and not on the chest. That’s a little ‘been there, done that’. I want us to have something different and more special,” he’s practically shouting over the spray. “Something not every fan has.”  
Jensen turns the water off and steps out of the shower. Jared is still leaning against the doorjamb, naked as the day his was born, towel drying his hair. Jensen takes him in and swallows audibly, reaching for him. Jared, knowing how easily he can distract Jensen, smirks at him, “there’s no time for that, horndog. Get a grip.” He throws his damp towel at Jensen, who flips him off even as he catches the towel. “You’re doing that on purpose. We only have so much time before we have to be on set tonight. Get dressed before we miss our appointment.”  
Jared smirks into the mirror on the closet door as he pulls his black cotton boxer briefs up to cover what, in Jensen’s estimation, is both a lethal weapon and an undeniable thing of beauty. And that’s just the view from behind. Knowing Jensen better than anyone, Jared snorts and, without turning around, points vaguely past Jensen. “That’s it.”  
Jensen turns, following Jared’s arm and sees what Jared traced in the fogged mirror. He smiles and strides over to Jared, now wearing jeans. He pushes his chest up against Jared’s back and lets his hands wander over Jared, barely touching him. Jared’s skin is pebbling, his eyes darkening, and he can feel how ready Jensen is for Round Two. Jensen’s eyes are locked on Jared’s in the mirror and he’s smirking. His fingertips graze a spot and Jensen taps. “Right here.”  
Jared’s cheeks pink up slightly and he agrees, with a barely perceptible nod.

Several hours later, they’re on set for yet another Fraturday and it seems like it’s a full crew.  
“Well, did you do it,” Sam Smith whispers between takes?  
“We did,” Jared grins. Jensen nods and wags his finger at her. “Don’t ask. We won’t tell.”  
Sam rolls her eyes. “Fine. I won’t. But fair warning: I’m not the only one who wants to know.”  
Jensen and Jared exchange a look as, right on cue, Misha walks over. He claps his hands together and shouts, “Well? I want to see them!”  
Jensen raises his eyebrow at Misha. “Why? So you can get one and announce it at a convention that we have matching tattoos? Nah.”  
Jared does his best innocent expression when Misha turns to him. “Don’t look at me. He’s the boss,” he says, pointing at Jensen, who Jared swears is actually preening.  
Misha shrugs. “Can’t fault a guy for trying.” His tone is clipped and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m wrapped, see you when I see you.” As he walks towards his trailer, Jensen calls after him. “Oh, and Misha? The artist is a friend and knows your tricks. He –“  
“Or she,” Jared interjects, while studying his fingernails.  
“Or she,” Jensen nods in agreement, “won’t tell you anything and won’t be adding wings to it for you, either.”  
Jensen turns his back on Misha, who was opening his mouth to protest. The message is clear; they’re not sharing.  
Word gets around set quickly and the direct questions stop there. They assure the girls in makeup that they’ll know in advance and it won’t require more than a few additional minutes if and when the time comes. But they don’t say what it is or where.

As the weeks pass the questions subside, but Jared and Jensen both know it’s just a matter of time; they’re just about wrapped on the season and hiatus means boating and swimming and shorts and bare chests. They’ve talked it over and they decide the best thing to do is just get in front of it. A plan forms, and they get an unexpected opening when Misha’s friend Darius pops into Vancouver the final week Misha is on set.  


There’s about an hour before anyone is expected in makeup when Jared and Jensen kick their plan into motion. Jensen walks up to where Jared and Misha are chatting as he dribbles a basketball.  
“Misha, grab Darius and let’s play a little two-on-two. Winners buy, losers pick the restaurant.” Jared smirks as Jensen passes the ball to him and shrugs out of his windbreaker.  
“Ha. I’m in. And when we lose, it’s Gotham.” Misha smirks and beckons Darius over.  
“Shirts and skins?” Jared laughs and says, “We call shirts.” Misha and Darius strip their shirts off and about a dozen phones come out as the crew gathers around. Everyone is laughing and having a good time and Jensen gets Clif’s attention.  
“Hey, Clif, you live?” Clif smirks and says “yup, Facebook live here” and gestures to his right hand.  
The live stream is what Jared and Jensen were looking for. They go up to Clif, right up to the phone.  
“Hey guys, a little treat from set today, making the most of some downtime. We wanted to say live that we just beat Misha and Darius at a little basketball, and so we’re springing for dinner wherever they want.”  
Everyone starts clapping and Clif focuses in on Misha and Darius dancing around in victory, their arms raised above their heads like champions. Jared smiles into the camera. “We also wanted to take a minute to thank all y’all for being with us all these years. As a special treat, just for us, Jensen and I got matching tattoos to commemorate the Winchesters.”  
They step back and pull their shirts over their heads. In tandem, they turn so their left sides are facing the camera. Behind them, Misha stops celebrating as realization dawns.  
They raise their arms and expose their left sides. Two infinity symbols. Two sets of initials. Jensen reaches out with his right hand and claps Jared’s shoulder. “We wanted to honor Sam and Dean. Their connection with each other, their connection with us, our connection with them. Nobody loves Sam and Dean more than we do. So, here they are, SW and DW, together for eternity with us.”  
Jared smiles at the camera. “Thank y’all. We love you.” He blows a kiss and winks as Clif cuts the live stream.  
Jensen turns around to Misha. “Gotham at 8. Dinner’s on us, as promised.” Misha is silent, his eyes assessing.  
“Clever. You outflanked me.”  
Jared smiles and crosses his arms. “Well, we left flanked you, actually. See you at dinner.”  
As Jared and Jensen hurry off to the showers before they’re due in makeup, Jensen turns to him and smiles “Jay? I never said we’d eat with them. I have plans for us.” With a wink and a leer, Jensen grabs Jared’s arm and ushers him to the showers. Nobody sees Jensen run his finger across Jared’s new tattoo, so nobody saw Jared’s skin pucker and his nipple harden. They could chalk up his blush to exercise.


End file.
